Rangoli

Mango takes me back to my childhood. I remember the days when every Friday my father will decorate the front door with fresh leaves and a toraNa. Then there was always this pUja or that pUja with kalaSam full of leaves. Then the countless varieties of pickles my mother used to make to last the whole year. jADis full of aavakAya, mAgAya, meMtikAya, etc. Then the fruits of various varieties, the rasAlu, the nIlam, the baMganapalli, the pasaMds, etc. Where have those days gone, those sweet days when there was nothing to care about except school. Gone are they, gone are the parents, gone are the sisters, gone are the friends. Nothing but memories in a foreign land whre the mango tastes like anything but a mango! Regards! - mOhana